B-B-B-Bad to the Bone

The whole salon last night busting up laughing as my newly shorn son, SugarLips, sipped his Chai Tea Latte. Not the most badass choice in beverages.

The Land of 33

I welcomed my good friend Bombadee to The Land of 33 today and assured her how much she would like it here; I arrived back in February. So often young girls, by this I mean twenty-something’s, fear “the dreaded 30’s”. Personally I have enjoyed my thirties much, much more than my turbulent and indecisive twenties.

This has inspired me to create one of my favorite things…a list.

30 Reasons My 30’s are Better than My 20’s:

1. I make more money and don’t have to hock my possessions to feed my children.
2. I don’t feel the need to aesthetically compete with or compare myself to women around me; I made peace with my looks and know I am a beautiful being.
3. I stopped wearing overalls, flare jeans, platform shoes and headbands.
4. I finally realized how blessed I am to be married to a remarkable, compassionate, handsome, loving man and no longer take him for granted.
5. I retired baby blue eye shadow and sparkle dust from my make-up repertoire.
6. I am no longer angry at my parents or blame my childhood for the choices I make as an adult.
7. I found meaning in The Star Spangled Banner and parades with fire trucks and veterans.
8. I am more confident.
9. I know my grammar has a greater impact on how I am perceived than the car I drive or purse I carry.
10. I’ve created a home.
11. I am no longer the “new girl” at work; peers trust me (I hope).
12. There’s something to be said about the notion women hit a sexual peak in their 30’s; I am more comfortable with my body, know what I like and ask for what I want.
13. I can more easily determine when I am being lied to.
14. I realize I look better in dark, straight leg jeans with heels than draw string pants and Birkenstock sandals.
15. The songs I grew up with are all conveniently compiled on “Classic Hits” CD’s.
16. I trust myself to make better choices.
17. I stopped smoking.
18. I’ve surrounded myself with amazing and clever friends whose children I love and enjoy spending time with.
19. I discovered helping others helps me.
20. The capacity of which I am able to love my children never ceases to amaze me; it is more today than yesterday.
21. I seek my own truth rather than unquestionably accept that which I am offered.
22. I know I don’t have to like everyone, nor does everyone have to like me.
23. I stopped drinking Zima with grenadine.
24. I no longer accept poor customer service; my patronage must be earned and if you are bitchy I will turn your snotty ass into the manager.
25. I am that much closer to life without a period.
26. My retirement savings is no longer laughable.
27. I was given a family size George Foreman Grill as a 30th birthday gift, and it changed life as I knew it.
28. I no longer dwell on that which I cannot change.
29. I traded in fantasies of sleeping with George Clooney to having a conversation with him.
30. My 30’s saw the birth of my first blog.

Test

This is a test, only a test.

Had this been a real post, you would have read something incredibly interesting, intellectually insightful or pee-your-pants funny.

But, again, this is only a test.

Practically Perfect in Every Way

I met my nephew Colin this morning and he is gorgeous. 7lbs, 7oz, 18 inches, strawberry blonde hair...simply beautiful. I see much of his older brother Judo Boy in him and he has been blessed with his Mommy's dimple.

He was born at the hospital I work at, so I get the luxury of visiting him several times a day. At lunch I was changing his diaper and should have been prepared for what occurred next, considering I have a son myself. That's right...Aunt Jennie was peed on. Not that I minded, as then I was able to change his clothes and see his skinny legs and ginormous feet.

Life is good.

Giddy with Excitement

I had a long, detailed post prepared all about my busy weekend, whining about how I never leave myself spare time when I got THE CALL. Now none of it matters.

My honorary nephew, Colin Scott, is making his grand appearance this afternoon. He's been growing in his Mommy for many, many months and I simply cannot wait to meet him and tell him how much his Aunt Jennie loves him.

Happy Birthday Colin!

Random Pictures...

My Magnificent Mimi

Kacie The Dog

My Pal Deep Dish

Bombadee and Drink

SugarLips and His Beloved

My Main Man

Sisters Will Be Sisters

TaterTot's Luck

How Long Do I Have to Sit Here for Some Candy?

Guess Which Beverage is Doody's?

Vrroomm...Vrroomm

Mr. Tot

Quote of the Day

Sparky: "Let's go do it really quick, it won't take long."

Jenny, Jennie and Angry Girl: The Conclusion

I would like to preface with post with an admission to Beth. I lied to you twice.

#1 – I promised in an email dated February 20th that I would not blog about you. This post makes a liar out of me.

#2 – When I said “I don’t put my friends in order of most importance to least. They are all equally important to me.” I now realize I do put my friends in order of importance, and Jenny always has and always will come before you.

The Conclusion of Jenny, Jennie and Angry Girl

Why does it seem so easy for Beth to say what it is she wants to with her keyboard? I remember telling Jeff months ago how odd I found it when I would be receiving emails from her all day how she thought her world was ending, crying at her desk for hours and we would get together that same evening and nothing. Casual chit chat, old stories, funny ha-ha's. Saturday night reminded me of just that.

At Beth's invitation, Jenny and I went to dinner with her Saturday night. In reponse to Beth, I have to admit she is right, I did not bring up what her blog post say she wanted to be brought up. I told Jenny going in that I had planned to keep quiet, afraid I would adversely affect any chance the two of them had at reconciliation. After all they had been friends for years, I had only known Beth for months. I suppose to be just, I should have told Beth the same up front. But also to be fair, I don't remember Beth uttering the sentence "so are we going to talk about this" either so her blog sermon about why she bothered with us and how it was a waste of time made no sense to me at all. If that is why she invited us out for dinner, then maybe she should have brought it up. Dan said Beth only invited us out so she and her friends could say mean things about us on the Internet (again). Dan was right – it was a setup and next time you advise me, I promise to listen. I found Jenny’s willingness to meet with her an incredibly forgiving and open-minded gesture considering some of the last things Beth actually said to or about her:

• “Just go away. You were a shitty friend and you were proud of that, you think that makes you some sort of strong liberated woman, when in reality you're just a self-centered bitch.”
• “She's like a rabid fucking dog sending me messages all night.”
• “With friends like her, you don't need enemies, you don't need stalkers, and you don't need emotionally abusive boyfriends. She'll fill every single void like that for you, and then she'll brag about how liberated and empowered she is for it.”
• “Foaming rabid dog, I tell you.”
• “If I ever even so much as see her again, I’ll punch her right in her stupidfucking mouth.”
• “FUCK OFF.”

Or some of the things her friends said to or about Jenny on Beth's blog:

• “You have a lot of fucking nerve.”
• “Isn't there a rock for you to crawl back under?”
• “Ya know, I feel very sorry for you - women like you are the same ones who claim ‘I have no women friends, women are jealous (or don't understand me or whatever).’ The real reason you have no women friends is that you are a lousy friend.”
• “I'm sorry that you wasted so much energy on someone who is not at all deserving. Block the bitch, say fuck off, and move on to those that are worthy of your time and energy.”
• “You are too self absorbed to think in those terms. You're truly a selfish little snot.”
• “With friends like her, who needs enemies? Bossy, judgemental, insensitive and uncaring are not on my list of characteristics I look for in friends, no mater where the fuck they live.”
• “She's just not worth it!”
• “She is a shining example of how age does not define maturity.”
• “Please, cut this cancer from your life.”
• “I, for one, truly hope you hurt like hell. It's only fitting.”
• “She's not worth any of this wasted space or time.”
• “You are the lowest of the low.”

Read those again. They are horrible, hurtful, stinging things to say (or allow your friends to say) about someone you once called your good friend. Was that really called for? Just picture it, Jenny sat across a table Saturday night sharing appetizers and drinks with someone whose last communication with her called her a self-centered bitch, foaming rabid dog and told her to “Fuck off”. She is a better woman than I. It seems to me that to stay in Beth’s good graces you have to either agree with every asinine thing she says, constantly tell her she “deserves better”, or beat her up. That’s it! Jenny and I should have jumped her in the parking lot and beat the living shit out of her. Then she’d come to Jenny’s wedding in September and her family would be friendly at sporting events (okay, I had to throw in some sarcasm).

Some of my readers may be wondering why Jenny and I decided to get together with Beth at all, considering what you just read. This is what Beth said to me:

“God this sucks. I hate losing you. I was a psychoticbitch that day and you didn’t deserve it and I wish I could take it all back. I was angry at her and I directed it at you and that was awful of me and I deserve to be publicly lynched.”

We decided to get together in a few weeks, after feelings had some time to heal. Beth, unbeknownst to me, invited Jenny:

“On (date/time), Jennie and I are meeting to discuss what a heinous person I’ve been lately, how this whole mess happened in the first place, and whether any vestige of our friendship is salvageable. If you would like to join us, I think it might be good for everybody in the long run, regardless of the outcome.

E-mail Tone Meter: No sarcasm, no hidden motives, much trepidation. Please interpret as such.

Beth

P.S. I miss you both terribly today for some reason, but it might just be the medication. (okay, I guess there is some sarcasm)”

I thought it would be fair to hear her out, wish her well and suggest she let her friends know up front that sometimes she may become this horribly mean person for no apparent reason and not like them anymore but to just ride it out and it should pass (someone should have let me know and my reaction may have been different when she suddenly hated me). To be honest I knew going in I had no interest in being her friend again. Why would I want to invite that back into my life? My short-lived friendship with her demanded much and offered little and she has many, many friends who give her the support she needs. Way back on March 1st, I said this in an email to Jenny:

“I believe her to be incredibly dishonest, manipulative and cunning person who chooses play a specific role for a desired result. Right now, with us, she is playing the apologetic victim. Then after she gets wants, this strange need of hers to believe everyone is enamored with her, things will be right back to where they were. She will play the role of martyr, posting on her blog that she tried but we failed. Personally, I don't want to play her game anymore. I'm done.”

If nothing else Beth is predictable. Jenny went in to the evening with genuine sincerity, concern about her well being and open to whatever would happen. I did not. I think Jenny was also hoping to come to a place of civility where Beth would no longer feel the need to trash her on her website and invite her friends to gleefully join in. Obviously that did not happen, as you could read if you so desire. Once again Jenny is the bad guy, it’s all her (our) fault. I came to the conclusion long ago that Beth needs a villain in her life allowing her to be a victim. Jenny and I are move valuable to her as foes than as friends.

So we get together on Saturday and for the first several moments, it was predictably uncomfortable; reading the menu with odd focus and determination. Jenny finally broke the strange silence with inquiries on her recently hospitalized uncle, her dying mother, her father, her brother, her brain, her lost book deal, etc. Several times the conversation fell into a pattern that inferred nothing had even occurred which I found very odd:

Jenny: “I love the sauce on this pizza.”
Beth: “My dad has recreated it, I’ll email you the recipe.”

Guess how many times Beth asked either of us about anything going on in our lives? Our husbands, our children, our jobs, our friends…no, no…I’m serious guess. You’re right; ZERO. When Jenny brought this up in an email to Beth the next day, Beth said:

“I didn't need to ask how things were going in your life - you answered those questions without me asking.”

This girl has a self-appreciating and vindicating response for everything. She invited us to dinner to talk about what went wrong in our friendships, and then had the audacity to blame us for not broaching the subject?

“Every time it seemed like the conversation was headed in a direction where we were actually going to talk about what happened, you changed the subject.” -Beth

Are you kidding me? The only response I have to that statement is that is downright untruthful, but it’s what I have come to expect so I will move on. Although to be fair she is right, I didn’t bring up the fact that she called Jenny mean names and suddenly disliked me. I knew if I started to talk about it, the fact that I was pissed off would become apparent. I should have known better, my judgment was off.

Once we moved down to our second location, things got noticeably uncomfortable again as it was becoming clear the evening would soon end without resolution. We struck up a conversation with the guy at the next table who had just left the hockey game and he joined our table, buying us a round of drinks. Our conversation was great with the exception of Beth constantly insulting him and being rudely sarcastic. At one point he referred to us as “Jenny, Jennie and Angry Girl”. I found it comical how quickly a stranger was able to figure her out, it took me months.

Will you take a quarter for this...

I love garage sales.

There are a couple of particular places in my parents Tiny Town that I hit every year, without fail. The “All Tiny Town Garage Sale” is coming soon; my good pal Bombadee will be joining me for a day of frugality. Wednesday, I received word that the sale I hit to buy loads of clothing for my girls each year was happening Friday. This Friday? But the All Tiny Town event isn’t for two more weeks. Crappity crap. I can’t miss it, what will my girls wear all summer?

Mom and Aunt Teenie Weenie are friends with this particular supplier so I begged them to call and arrange a buy last night. Well, I hit the mother-load. This lovely lady’s girls are one-two sizes ahead of my own and she buys brands I normally would not, Tommy Hilfiger, Limited Too, etc. (Name brand clothing to me usually equates to Old Navy - don't laugh)

For $167.25 I walked away with:

• 14 pair of jeans
• 9 pair of Capri’s
• 4 dresses
• 7 T-shirts
• 24 tank tops
• 12 long-sleeve shirts
• 9 pair of pajamas
• 15 pair of shorts
• 6 hooded sweatshirts
• 3 pair of sport pants
• 5 stocking hats
• 6 floppy hats
• 4 pairs of socks
• 3 belts
• 5 pairs of gloves
• 3 pairs of tennis shoes
• 1 pair of snow boots
• 3 jackets
• 1 winter coat
• 2 pair of snowpants
• 1 pair of sunglasses

One......Two......

Three....JUMP!

The Casseroles Guess That Cleavage Game

Our Casserole gathering was held at Fiesta Pie’s abode this month, rather than a dinner out surrounded by strangers and driving to a loud dance club with over-priced cocktails (although we enjoy those kind of evenings too). The original intent was to watch movies, but I knew going in that once we all sat down at a table with some wine and snacks it would be hours before we stopped chatting long enough to do anything.

I had been craving some good bread, wine and cheese in recent weeks so after the Red Shoe Run on Saturday I took the opportunity while in The City to stop by Panera Bread. I picked up their lovely Asiago Cheese Loaf and Rosemary & Onion Foccia. I’m lucky they don’t have one of these delightful establishments in my Small Smug Town, or I would weigh considerably more. I stopped by the market and picked up some apples, Smoked Gouda, Smoked Swiss, Herbed Havarti and Sutter Home White Zinfandel (all my favorites). It was a feast of delicious proportions.

Following some good conversation, a few bouts of unexpected tears and several bottles of wine, we found ourselves restless and in need for something a little crazy to occur. Green Bean graced my skin with some of her original art as seen below. (I’ve been showering for days and the remnants are still apparent, by the way.)

At this point I passed my camera around the table and asked everyone to take a self-portrait; you’ll see the results below. These always turn out to be the funniest (and sometimes worst) pictures. Then, and for the life of me I can’t remember who, someone took a picture of their cleavage. What happened then you ask? Well, in good Casserole and sisterly fashion we all decide to follow suit. These shots have inspired me to create “The Casseroles Guess That Cleavage” game. I attempted to hide our eyes in an effort to protect the innocent (yeah...right).

By the way, to the girl in the red bra (you know who you are)…

nice rack.

Things That Annoy Me…About Me

I can take a joke too far and offend someone I didn’t intend too. Sometimes I wish I knew when to stop.

Suddenly singing songs that relate to random things those around me say. (This is especially bad at work for some reason). Sometimes I wish I would shut up.

I don’t take a joke far enough and my intention to offend someone isn’t realized. Sometimes I wish people weren’t so oblivious when I’m trying to make fun of them.

When I drink too much, I seem to endlessly declare that I will be having sex as if everyone in the room with me needs or wants to know. Sometimes I wish I was more discreet.

I have a really hard time letting things go and moving on. You know I am finally able to when I permanently delete all traces of someone from my PC, no longer allowing me to dwell in the past. Sometimes I wish I chose to move on sooner.

Once I let go, I don’t go back. The Big B could call me today and apologize until the cows came home and I would wish her well and request she not call me ever again. Mrs. Blahzeeblah has always has told me that one of my less desirable character traits is my stubbornness. Sometimes I wish I was more forgiving.

The big ass mole to the left of my nose. Sometimes I wish I would get it hacked off my face.

My inability to keep my hands still for any length of time and relating need to tear things into tiny pieces. Sometimes I wish I had more control.

My insatiable need to present an image to those around me. Sometimes I wish I didn’t want to control as much.

My lack of ambition when it comes to exercise. Sometimes I wish my health was higher on the priority list (along with my cottage cheese ass and dunlap stomach).

Victory: My 100th Post

This past Saturday Sister Stephanie and I participated in the 3rd Annual Red Shoe Run for Donor Awareness, a competitive 5K founded in the honor of Carrie Jane Smith who became a tissue and cornea donor four years ago at the age of 28. Carrie was the daughter of Bobbi, a long-time close family friend who cares for the Tot children at my employer’s Sick Bay (daycare for ill children). She often competed in 5K's and marathons and had a love of red shoes. Because of the donation of Carrie’s corneas an Arizona woman can see today.


Now you may be thinking, TaterTot competitive? Not really with others, only with myself. Jennie run a 5K, or evn 50 feet for that matter? Okay, I didn’t intend to “run” it…I preferred to call it the Red Shoe Walk Really Fast. I had only two goals going in; not to finish last and to raise a minimum of $65 in donations.

Goal One: Don’t Finish Last
I started at a slow and steady jog. The majority of the runners pulled away from me quickly. Sister Stephanie and I didn’t even stand next to each other to begin; I didn’t want to feel pressure to keep up with her, or her feel pressure to hold back for me. Here I am jogging along for a few minutes, when my shins start burning. I decide it’s a pain I can live with, so I keep going. Jogging, jogging, jogging. Wow. Wait a minute. I’m still jogging. It may be slow, but this definitely qualifies as a jog. Down a hill, still jogging. Shit, now I have to go up the hill. Still jogging. I begin to see the front runners coming towards me at this point, having turned the first corner and lopping back. Suddenly I see it, the one mile marker. Am I still jogging? Hell yes I am. Sunlight appears from the heavens, choirs of angels begin singing “Hallelujah” as I run past the sign and the guy with the stopwatch tell me “14 minutes, good job, keep it up”. My arms go up in celebration and I feel a lump form in my throat and my eyes begin to fill. The stopwatch guy looks at me bewildered, I’m sure he was thinking, “what in the hell is she so happy for, the rest of the runners passed here ages ago.”

I JOGGED ONE MILE! WITHOUT STOPPING!

For me this is unheard of, last occurring in my freshman year of high school (19 years ago). For those of you who don’t know me, or know my physical shape let me give you a heads up; six months ago I weighed an impressive 237 pounds and wore a snug size 22. Some hard work has brought me to 193 and a size 18, but I am not in what would be considered even good physical shape by any means. I gave myself permission to transition into a face paced walk at this point, as my shins begin to feel as if they will crumble beneath me at any moment. Just before reaching the 2 mile marker, the course passed by the finish line and I can see Sister Stephanie in her hot pink ear warmer and fire engine red cheeks approaching. She completed the race in 28 minutes, coming in second place for her age group and two minutes faster than her time last year. I flag her down and she walks the last mile and half with me, on the verge of puking the entire time from her finish line sprint. She convinces me to jog the last section, once the finish line comes back into sight. I complete my first 5K in 50 minutes 35 seconds. I did not finish last. Victory.

Goal Two: Raise $65 in Donations
I raised $79. This amount seems miniscule compared to the thousands of dollars others boast to have raised for their chosen charities, but for me it was acceptable. I suck at asking friends/family for money, good cause or not. It costs $65 for the necessary testing to add one person to the Bone Marrow Donor List, so my reasoning was if I can raise enough money to add one person it was worth it. Victory.

That was my Saturday morning. It may not seem very monumental to some, but to me it was a triumph. Hopefully the first of many.

Side Note: I am still walking funny today, my leg muscles having not yet recovered.

Coming Soon: The Casseroles “Guess That Cleavage” Contest

Stupid Is as Stupid Does

Things about the state I live in, I am embarrassed to admit I couldn’t have told you before I Googled them for this post:

• The Governor is Rob R. Blagojevich
• The US Representative for my district is Donald A. Manzullo
• The US Senators are Barack Obama and Richard J. Durbin
• The Secretary of State is Jesse White
• State Flower is the Purple Violet Viola
• State Bird is the Cardinal (we share this distinction with 6 other states)
• State Tree is the White Oak
• State Animal is the Deer
• State Snack is Popcorn (I'm not really embarrassed about this one, I just thought it was interesting)
• We are known as The Prairie State (yes, spell-check corrected my first attempt at prairie)
• We were the 21st state to be admitted in the Union (on December 3, 1818) signified on our state quarter by the 21 stars bordering the coin

The Bombadee's are lowering their heads in disgust right now.

Call Me Oscar...

Feeling a bit crunchy today.

Easily irritated.

Beware.

Random Things I Read on the Internet Today That Caught My Attention

“Three Arrested, Man Shot in 'Baby Shower Gone Bad - The argument, over whether the woman let their 5-year-old daughter drink beer, escalated and drew in two other people.”

“Lazy Mole Rats Serve Their Queens Through Sex”

"I didn't want to divorce him, I just couldn't fix him."

"Sometimes, I just felt worthless. I needed men in my life to validate me and make me feel like I was loved."

“If I do engage in any sexual activity with Flavor Flav or any other Participants or otherwise, I do so entirely at my own risk, and understand and acknowledge that the risk of engaging in such activity includes, among other things, the risk of contracting any type of sexually transmitted disease, including, without limitation, HIV/AIDS, gonorrhea, herpes, syphilis, pelvic inflammatory disease (PID), chlamydia, scabies (crabs), hepatitis, genital warts, etc.”

“And if you're telling yourself, 'Can I turn this into a relationship?' You're loving dumb. He asks her why she can't tell him no. 'I guess I just have hope,' Jeannie says. 'I keep thinking one day he's going to get it.' 'Aren't you settling too cheap?' Dr. Phil asks. 'You don't spell desperate H-O-P-E.'"

"Is it possible that you're mourning the loss of the girl you wish she had been, instead of the girl she really was?"

“I remember thinking, I’ve got to figure this out. What’s normal? Am I normal? Who’s to say what’s normal? I didn’t understand what ’normal’ is. It still doesn’t make sense.”

“I have two identities. Two lives almost. Over the past year they cropped up. Both are very much ‘me’ and not some fantasy land I live in, but I cant help but feel the effects of both existing.”

All I"ve Got...

Sorry I haven’t been posting lately. Life is moving fast and I am having trouble keeping up. Last night at the BlahZeeBlah’s I talked about all of the post ideas I’ve had lately, and even prepared for, but have never actually made it to my blog. There has to be some old saying about intentions that would be appropriate here, but I’m too exhausted to Google for it.

My parental units are finally moved in; all dwellings sold and bought, wrapped up with a nice little bow. I took Friday off work to finish the painting. Who knew some white trim would take 7 1/2 friggin’ hours, Sister Stephanie and I sure as hell didn’t. By Friday at 5:30 p.m. I had begun to daydream of ways to torture anyone who has the balls to ask me to paint anything ever again. Especially the color red. Saturday was spent moving in all of their stuff and Sunday I found myself unpacking and shopping for the appropriate curtains to hang in a red room (turns out white Battenburg Lace).

Needless to say, I haven’t even sat at a computer since I left work on Thursday. This morning I have been spending more time than my employer would prefer trying to catch up on some blogs, news, guilty pleasures and emails. Turns out I missed some good, some bad and some ugly:

• OK – I’m pissed I can’t see your movies from work.
• Finally! You shouldn’t make your readers wait so long for another post. Inquiring minds want to know.
• I always enjoy some toilet humor.
• This one made me laugh out loud.
• What can I say about this blog? Are you kidding me?
• Her boobs have gotten even huger with pregnancy!
• I need more time for this one, only had time to glance.
• 579 days, 22 hours, 18 minutes to go.
• I’ll be canceling my moving plans now.

Bombadee and I were just discussing our favorite Shel Silverstein poems last night and after reading Fussy’s poem post this morning I have decided to share mine:

Snowball

I made myself a snowball

As perfect as could be.

I thought I'd keep it as a pet

And let it sleep with me.

I made it some pajamas

And a pillow for its head.

Then last night it ran away,

But first it wet the bed.

- Shel Silverstein

That’s all I have…for now.